No water flows in its outer moat,
Nor its rock foundation laves.
My castle is old and its doors flap loose,
As though wringing in grief its hands,—
Out by the wall, near the cherry trees,
The barn of my childhood stands!
Empty the mows where from robbers fierce,
We hid in the days gone by,
Vacant the stall where Old Dolly stood,
And watched as we played “I-spy!”